She spent most evenings poring over her favourite book of flowers by Sarah Bowdich, comparing the blooms she’d collected to the pictures in the book and adding their Latin names to her scrapbook, along with the flower released from the press. She felt irrationally guilty that she was confining something so vibrantly alive to the pages of a book, but at least its beauty was now preserved beyond its natural life-span.
She also added a mewling kitten she’d found half drowned beside a tarn to her menagerie. Tiny enough to sit in the palm of her hand, Flora reckoned it was only a few days old as its eyes were not yet opened. Somehow, the little animal had managed to drag itself out of what would have been a watery grave. Its determination to survive moved Flora beyond any other creature she’d adopted, and with no one to stop her, the sleek black kitten shared the warmth of her bed.
She named the new addition ‘Panther’ after she found him eyeing Posy hungrily through the grill of her cage, even though the rabbit was five times the kitten’s size, and he was soon fully recovered, flexing his tiny sharp claws by climbing the curtains in the bedroom. Once he was weaned, Flora knew she’d have to take him downstairs to the kitchen, or half her menagerie would end up in his stomach.
Aurelia wrote to her once a week, reporting on her adventures in London.
I am glad that the presentation itself is over. My nerves were in shreds as I waited in line to be presented to the King and Queen. In confidence, Flora, Alexandra is far more delicate and beautiful than she appears in her photographs, and the King is uglier and fatter! To my surprise, I’ve had no shortage of dancing partners at the dances I’ve attended and two of them have asked to call on me at Aunt Charlotte’s. One is a viscount, who Mama tells me owns half of Berkshire, so you can imagine how happy she is! I am not so enamoured; he stands at only just above my height – and you know how short I am – and he walks with a limp, due, so I’m told, to having suffered from polio as a child. I feel sympathy for him, but he is definitely no Prince Charming, even though this is no fault of his own.
Talking of ‘princes’, Archie Vaughan arrived as escort to his sister, Elizabeth, at a dance last week. And oh, there is no doubt he is the most handsome man in London. The rest of the debutantes were envious indeed when he asked me to dance, not once, but three times! Aunt Charlotte said it was almost indecent! We talked for a while afterwards and he asked after you, puzzling that you weren’t with us in London. I explained you hated the town life so had remained at Esthwaite Hall. He said he hoped you had forgiven him. I confess that I might be a little in love with him, even though there’s something about him that rather unnerves me.
And that is all my news for now. Mama sends her best. I’m sure you will understand how much she is enjoying being back in the social round. Everyone seems to know her here and she was obviously a very popular debutante before she married Papa. She says she will write soon.
I miss you, my dearest sister.
Aurelia
‘My word!’ Flora exclaimed in frustration to Panther, who had climbed up her skirts and into her lap as she read the letter. ‘It would be just my luck to have Archie Vaughan as a brother-in-law.’
A few days later, on a hot July afternoon, Flora was sitting in the garden at the table sketching. She had found a wide-brimmed canvas hat of unknown origin abandoned in the boot room, and it now warded off the strong rays of the afternoon sun. Panther was prancing across the lawn, chasing butterflies and looking so adorable that Flora abandoned the flowers she had been sketching and instead sat on the grass to capture his likeness.
She was startled by the sudden sound of footfall behind her. Turning round, she expected to see Tilly home from the weekly market. Instead, a tall shadow passed across her as she looked up into the dark eyes of Archie Vaughan.
‘Good afternoon, Miss MacNichol. I do apologise if I disturbed you, but my fist’s raw from knocking on the front door, so I came round the back in search of a human being.’
‘Goodness, I . . .’ Flora scrambled to her feet as Panther’s fur stood on end and he hissed at the stranger ferociously. ‘The staff are all out. And, as you know, my family is away,’ she said abruptly.
‘So, you are a veritable orphan in your own home.’
‘Hardly an orphan,’ she countered. ‘I simply don’t care for London and chose to stay instead.’
‘In that way, at least, we share the same opinion. Especially in the mating season, when a new tranche of innocent young females must bat their eyes as coquettishly as possible, in their bid to outdo their rivals for the highest male prize.’
‘And do you consider yourself a male “prize”, Lord Vaughan? I hear from my sister you attended a dance last week.’
‘Quite the contrary,’ he said. ‘Despite our pedigree and ancient family name, we are flat broke. You may know my father died in the last Boer War seven years ago and the Vaughan ship has remained unsteered until I came of age a few months ago. However, I assure you I am doing my utmost to stay out of the clutches of any rich heiress I come across.’
Flora had not expected such a frank response to her flip-pant comment.
‘May I ask what you’re doing here?’
‘I’m on my way down from the Highlands. I was there with your father and his party for a few days’ shooting. It’s a long drive back to London, so I decided I would kill two birds with one stone.’
‘And who or what are the “birds”, exactly?’
‘Firstly, taking a break from the journey and secondly, dropping in on the off chance you’d be here and might allow me a few minutes of your company. I wish to apologise in person for what happened in April. And also, perhaps be provided with some refreshment. Although the latter may not be possible, given that there are no staff around at the moment.’
‘That is the easiest of your requests, Lord Vaughan. I’m quite capable of making tea and I might even stretch to a sandwich too.’
‘A lady who can make tea and sandwiches! I doubt my sister and my mother have the first clue.’
‘It’s hardly difficult,’ Flora muttered, standing up. ‘Will you stay here in the garden while I prepare it?’
‘No, I’ll come with you and applaud your culinary skills with awe.’
‘As you please,’ Flora answered briskly. They headed up the steps to the terrace, and she felt furious with herself that her anger towards him seemed to have dissolved in his barrage of charm and honesty. Determined to hold on to it, Flora increased her pace as they entered the kitchen. Finding the kettle was already full, she placed it on the range to boil, then busied herself at the table with a loaf of bread, butter and cheese.
‘Quite the domesticated country wife, aren’t you?’ Archie commented, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
‘Please don’t patronise me, Lord Vaughan. Especially when I’m preparing your food.’
‘May I beg a favour, Miss MacNichol? As we find ourselves in such informal circumstances, perhaps you could try “Archie”? And I could try “Flora”?’